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Bye, bye, baby bows

I am confused. One minute I was clipping little bows into my daughters soft curls, kissing her warm little neck as she twirled around in a frothy gingham-checked Gymboree concoction.

The next minute, she’s dragging me into Justice. Land of the off-the-shoulder tee shirts and booty-shorts, all

attacked by either sequins, tie-dye, or both. “OMG OMG OMG!” my six-year-old shouts, running to the most sequinned items in the store. Stopping only to pick up one of the teen magazines the store managers have placed strategically throughout the store, so she can look at Justin Bieber’s face and sigh wistfully.

Can someone please wake me up from this nightmare?

I was prepared for my daughter to become a teenager. When she actually was, chronologically, a teenager.

I bought her the least-skimpy items in the store, a few sizes big so they wouldn’t have the hoochie-effect the designers must have had in mind, if you were to follow the size chart faithfully. I told her yes, Justin Bieber is adorable. Then we went home, flopped on the bed and watched, “Say Yes to the Dress” together. And I decided that even though I missed the little hair bows, my sparkly little friend and I were as close as ever.